Life Without Prison
by JamesLuver
Summary: Anna and John, in happier times. Various scenarios prompted by various people on Tumblr.
1. I

**A/N:** There's one prison prompt in here. Let's just overlook that. ;) This time it's bite sized chunks of fluff.

**Disclaimer:** I could have had it all...but I don't.

* * *

_Life After Prison_

_Anon's prompt: John can't resist resting his hand on Anna's thigh at dinner._

She was laughing and happy, and it was one of the most beautiful sights that he had ever seen in his life. Her giggles were high-pitched and completely honest, and he found himself enraptured by the look on her face as she laughed, the way that her eyes danced and the way that her whole body shook. It was his first dinner back at Downton after their long separation, and it was a wonder that he was finding the time to eat at all, too focused on the way that his wife looked. Questions were thrown at him one after the other – was the food hot enough, did he have enough, would he like dessert – and he answered each one quickly so that he could keep his attention trained fully on his wife.

She was sitting close to him, so close that their thighs were touching beneath the table. Every so often, she would turn that wonderful gaze on him, and he thought the strength of her smile would blind him.

It was torture, being so close to her and yet still not being allowed to touch. They had been forced apart for so long, and now that they were together again, they were still being kept away from each other. He didn't know how he was going to survive the next weeks alone in his room. For a brief moment, he considered simply taking hold of the hand that was resting tantalisingly close to his glass of water, but then he imagined the look of horror upon Mr. Carson's face and thought better of it.

Still, he needed to do _something_ to satisfy his need of touching her. He had not had the opportunity to do so since their walk to the cottage that afternoon. The thought of going any longer without feeling her warmth was unbearable.

And then the perfect idea sprang to mind.

On the guise of adjusting his seat, he let the hand nearest to Anna to fall below the line of the table. Gently, his fingers quested forward. His heart had begun to beat faster in his chest. He felt like a young boy defying his parents. The feeling was oddly exhilarating.

Slowly, his fingers came to a rest softly upon his wife's thigh, splaying warmly against her. Even though she was still wearing her work clothes, he could feel the firmness of her flesh beneath his fingertips.

At the sensation, Anna visibly jumped, turning to him with a look of wide-eyed surprise. He kept his gaze straight ahead, pretending to be engrossed in something that Mrs. Patmore was saying. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her face transform into that beautiful, wide smile that he loved so much. He squeezed her thigh lovingly, and she smiled wider.

And, in the next moment, she had dropped her hand below the table, her palm pressing against the back of his hand, tangling her fingers through his.

* * *

_Anon's prompt: John learns that Anna is pregnant._

It had been a long day at work. Lord Grantham had been in a particularly bad mood and that, in turn, had affected John. He'd managed not to snap when his lordship had told him that he'd need to stay longer tonight, but it hadn't been easy. He'd sent Anna home early, seeing no sense in making her wait when she didn't need to, and even though she'd protested, she'd gone in the end, telling him that she'd have dinner waiting for him upon his return.

It was a relief to latch the door to their cottage behind him when he did finally manage to get away. Inhaling deeply, he smiled at the realisation that she had cooked him his favourite. That, and his wife's smiling face, would be the perfect remedy.

Lazily removing his jacket, he made his way into the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe as his eyes adjusted to the sight in front of him.

"Well, well," he said, grinning widely. "Candlelight. Very romantic."

"What can I say?" she said lightly. "I'm a romantic woman, Mr. Bates."

He pushed off from the doorframe, coming to take her up in his arms. "And do I get a kiss from my romantic woman?"

"You might," she said playfully, "if you go and sit down."

He stole a kiss anyway, moving to sit in his usual place as Anna flitted easily around the kitchen. And then he frowned.

"Anna," he said. "Why have you set three places at the table?"

"Oh, we're expecting a visitor," she said, turning to grin at him.

He groaned. "Tonight? Why didn't you tell me?"

She came over to him. "Stop sulking. I thought it would be a nice surprise."

"Well, it's not," he grumbled. "I was looking forward to a quiet evening before retiring to bed with you. Who's coming to spoil my evening?"

"Don't worry, he won't be arriving yet," she told him, settling herself over his lap.

At that, John's eyes widened. "_He_? Anna, is there something you're not telling me?"

"Nothing like that, you silly man," she teased. "Besides, you needn't worry. He won't be coming for a good few months yet."

John looked nonplussed. "…So you're setting a place at the table for a man who won't be coming for a few _months_?"

She grinned mischievously. "Well, he won't be a man when he arrives. And he might even be a girl."

The pieces dropped into place, and John's eyes widened comically.

"Are you saying," he stammered, "that you're – we're –"

She grinned widely, wriggling closer.

"That's right," she whispered softly. "You're going to be a father, Mr. Bates."

* * *

_Anon's prompt: John is free, Anna is ill. Mrs. Hughes allows him to go to see her at night._

Mrs. Hughes sighs as she watches Mr. Bates pacing around outside her sitting room. He has been doing it for the last fifteen minutes, and it is beginning to grow a little tiresome. She knows what the man is doing lingering outside her office. She just doesn't understand why he doesn't come in and ask.

At last she can take it no longer, and opens the door wide.

"Can I help you, Mr. Bates?" she asks.

He jumps at the sound of her voice, looking guilty. "Oh, erm –"

She rolls her eyes at his inability to formulate a sentence, then motions for him to step inside her sitting room. He does so after a moment's hesitation, and she closes the door smartly behind them.

"Well?" she asks him, even though she already knows.

"How's Anna?" he asks her quietly. "I'm worried about her, Mrs. Hughes."

"Really, Mr. Bates, there's no need to worry. She just has a terrible cold. She'll be as right as rain in a few days."

Mr. Bates nods, but sighs. He looks so lost in that instance, and Mrs. Hughes feels her heart go out to him.

"Do you…do you think it would be possible for me to see her?" he asks after a moment. "I know you said that she isn't serious, but it would ease my mind."

"You have your work to do," she reminds him. "You have every right to be worried about Anna, but you can't let that affect your work."

Mr. Bates visibly wilts, and the housekeeper can't bear to see him looking so defeated.

"But," she continues, "if you promise to be discreet, I'll allow you to come and see her tonight, when everyone else has gone to bed. I'm sure it would cheer her."

Mr. Bates cheers up considerably at this.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hughes," he says sincerely. "You're very kind."

She merely smiles at him.

After everything they've been through, she just doesn't like to see them suffer.

* * *

That night, John finishes his chores at breakneck speed, not caring that they're not up to his usual standards. He waits for the others to retire to bed, grabs his night things, and quietly makes his way down the men's corridor. He holds his breath for a moment as he turns the door handle that segregates the sexes, and smiles widely when he realises that Mrs. Hughes has been true to her word. Carefully, he slips through it, locking it behind him. Anna's room is down near the other end of the corridor, and he moves slowly. He doesn't knock when he reaches it for fear of disturbing the others, and slips quietly inside. He half-expects to see Anna curled up, sleeping, so he is pleasantly surprised to see that she is sitting up in bed, clasping a book between her hands. She jumps visibly when she sees him in her doorway, though she is grinning broadly in the next moment.

"What are you doing here?" she whispers. "Mrs. Hughes will smack you with your cane if she sees you!"

He ventures further into the room. "Mrs. Hughes knows I'm here, actually."

Her eyes widen. "What? She let you through the door?"

He nods, then comes to stand at her bedside. She shuffles a little to make room for him, and he perches himself on the edge of her bed tentatively.

"How are you feeling?" he asks her softly.

She laughs a little. "I can't breathe through my nose and I feel a bit hot, but other than that, I'm fine. And I feel even better now that you're here."

"Well, I'm here to stay," he declares, holding up his night things. She laughs again, watching him interestedly as he begins to strip.

"Shouldn't you turn away?" he asks.

She smirks. "Why? It's nothing that I haven't seen before."

His eyes darken at her statement, but he shakes himself. That isn't what Anna needs right now. She just needs love.

When he's ready for bed, he slides in beside her. She almost falls out at that, so she solves matters by clambering on top of him.

"There," she says. "Much better."

He strokes her neck softly. "Right, it's time for you to sleep now."

"Is it?" she says. "Are those the doctor's orders?"

"No, but they're your husband's," he tells her.

"Hmm, he's a bit bossy, isn't he?" she teases, even as she stifles a yawn.

"I think he just cares."

She nods thoughtfully, then bends down to kiss him. He responds softly, not caring that she tastes like Beechams Powder, before allowing her to snuggle into the crook of his neck.

"Thank you for being here," she says sleepily.

He squeezes her tight. "I'll always be here from now on. I promise."

No response. Anna is already asleep. John smiles and follows her.

* * *

The next morning, Mrs. Hughes decides to check on Anna's wellbeing, as she had done last night before retiring.

But when she opens the door, she hadn't been expecting to see Anna curled up on top of Mr. Bates, sleeping soundly. The housekeeper's eyes widen in horror for a moment, before she realises that they are both still fully dressed. Thank heavens for small mercies.

Backing away slowly, she decides that she can leave them in peace for just five minutes longer.

* * *

_handy-for-the-bus' prompt: Anna tells John that she's pregnant during the picnic in Scotland._

She was still smiling cheekily at him, even after the kiss. He loved the expression on her face – it usually meant mischief, and John had quickly discovered that mischief usually meant that Anna was feeling particularly racy – but now, in the middle of the countryside, it was maddening, too.

"Come on," he said with a grin. "Out with it, Mrs. Bates."

"Don't you want to wait until we're back at Downton before I tell you?"

He shuddered at the mere thought. "Anna, that's another week away. I can't possibly wait that long to know."

"You need lessons in patience," she told him playfully, shuffling closer. "I waited years to hear you say that you loved me too."

There was only teasing in her tone, but John couldn't help but feel a stab of guilt. She noticed the flicker across his face, and rolled her eyes.

"All right, Mr. Bates, we'll have none of that," she said, prodding him in the chest. "No wallowing in self-pity, remember? The here and now is the only thing that matters."

"You're right," he said, smile brightening. She grinned broadly when his hands found her waist, pulling her onto his lap, and rested her hands against his shoulders. "So you should tell me what's on your mind right now."

"If I tell you," she said, "you're going to have to promise to keep it to yourself. It's a secret. For the time being, at least."

"I think I can manage that," he growled. "Secrecy is a speciality of mine."

She giggled when he waggled his eyebrows knowingly at her, then caught one of his hands. He sobered at once, sensing the change in the atmosphere.

"Anna?" he asked her.

She shushed him, then guided his hand to her stomach, resting it there gently.

"I'm pregnant, John," she breathed quietly, her eyes dancing. "I wanted to wait to tell you, but now is as good a time as any."

"Oh, Anna," he whispered, squeezing her lightly. He could barely believe what he was hearing. Him? A father? It was perfect. To the future and his Scottish blood indeed. She thought she detected a glimmer of tears in his eyes.

"Are you happy?" she asked.

The blinding smile he beamed at her was all the answer she needed.

* * *

_a-rabbit-hearted-girl's prompt: S01E04. Anna and John, along with Gwen, go to the fair._

The fair was in full swing when John, Anna and Gwen arrived. The other servants had already left when Anna had clattered into the kitchen, dressed for going out. John had been reluctant to allow her to go at first, because he could tell that she was still ill, but she had shot him one of those no-nonsense looks that had started to make his heart thump fast, and stated that she would be going whether he liked it or not, because the fair rarely came.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," she'd said. Gwen had pleaded with him to let them go, and he had relented upon seeing the challenge in Anna's blue eyes, grabbing his coat and hat and leading them away quickly before Mr. Carson should return and find Anna out of bed.

"We'll have to be careful not to be seen," he'd told Anna as they'd walked together, but she had just grinned.

"Don't worry, Mr. Bates," she'd teased. "I won't let you get into trouble, if that's what you're worried about."

He'd opened his mouth to tell her that he wasn't worried about that, just her welfare, but he had been interrupted by Gwen's squeal of excitement. They had arrived.

Now, John had to admit that he was enjoying himself very much. He was sure that it was down, in no small part, to Anna. There was something captivating about her, out here, in the magic of a fair. Although her nose was bright red and her cheeks were flushed, she looked as if she was enjoying herself immensely. She walked between him and Gwen, her arm occasionally brushing against his (when had she started walking so close?), her voice a little scratchy, but her eyes bright with enjoyment. They visited all of the stalls, inspecting the prizes, and he and Anna had laughed at Gwen's rather shoddy attempt at winning a wooden horse to send to her sister, who was expecting her first baby. The delicious smell of warm food permeated the air, and John had insisted on buying warm roasted nuts for both of the women. Anna, of course, had insisted on sharing hers with him in turn, placing them gently in his hands so that he didn't drop them. The feeling of her fingers, even through gloves, had sent shivers down his spine, and he was sure that heat had flooded his cheeks. If she'd noticed, Anna hadn't said anything, and Gwen had seemed too preoccupied with gnawing at her own nuts to notice. Once, they had ducked behind a stall together, sure that they had spotted Thomas and Miss O'Brien, and John had been unable to stop himself from chuckling at the sight of both Anna and Gwen peering like mice around the end of the stall, much to the bewilderment of the owner.

All in all, they had a wonderful time. Gwen and Anna were wonderful company, though John caught himself treacherously thinking a few times that he would like to spend at least a little time alone with Anna outside the confines of the great house.

And, at the end of the night, his wish was answered, when Gwen told them that she just had to try and win the wooden horse one more time, and that they should wait for her here. Neither of them protested as the younger woman darted back into the crowd. John thought about breaking the silence with a teasing quip, turning to smile at Anna, before the smile faded from his lips. She looked as if she was standing in the middle of some exotically cold land. She was pulling her coat tight around her.

"Anna, are you all right?" he asked her at once, not even trying to disguise the more-than-strictly-friendly concern in his voice.

"Yes, I'm fine," she reassured him, but he was not convinced in the slightest.

"You're shivering," he noted.

She shrugged. "Don't worry about me, Mr. Bates. I'll be all right."

He shook his head. "No, I don't want you to get more ill. Here, take this."

He withdrew his woollen scarf from one of the inside pockets of his coat. Anna stared.

"Mr. Bates, why are you carrying that with you? It's summer!"

Now it was his turn to shrug. "I just thought that you might be needing it."

She shook her head, incredulous at the thought that he could be caring enough to bring along a scarf in such weather, just for her, but he could see the fond smile playing around her lips. "That's very kind. Thank you."

"Not at all," he murmured, lifting it to wind around her neck. He couldn't be sure, but he had a feeling that she was holding her breath as his hands came into contact with the skin of her neck, and he was sure that she was shivering harder than ever. He could feel her warm breath ghosting against him. He pulled the scarf tighter. One of her hands half-raised –

"All right, we can go now!"

The reappearance of Gwen, sans horse, had them stepping apart at once. Anna's cheeks were glowing, but he wasn't sure if it was because of her illness.

Gwen stopped in her tracks, her eyes wide. "We'd better get you back into bed, Anna," she said innocently. "You don't look well at all."

Anna glanced at John, letting her eyes linger for a moment, before turning back to her friend.

"Lead the way," she murmured.

John noticed on the way back that she was walking closer than ever.

He couldn't mind at all.

* * *

_Anon's prompt: Anna and John's first dinner in their cottage._

"Will you pass me the knife?"

John smiled gently, doing as he was told. He peered over his wife's shoulder, resting his chin against her.

"Just what are you making?" he asked her, nuzzling his nose against her ear.

She giggled, swiping at him with flour-covered fingers. "Are my cooking skills so bad that you can't tell a pie when you see one?"

"A pie?" John looked a little dubious. It was certainly oddly shaped for a pie. "Well, it looks…lovely."

She giggled at his uncertainty, twisting in his arms so that she could press a kiss against his mouth.

"Why don't you get started on cutting the carrots?" she asked him. "We'll be done twice as quickly if you do."

"As you wish, milady," he murmured, pausing to kiss her again before moving to do as she'd asked.

A feeling of contented domesticity settled over them as they worked together, chopping vegetables and exchanging loving conversation as they moved about the room. The kitchen was only small, and Anna shivered every time that she brushed up against John in the tiny space, the warmth of his body sending heat through her veins. Time and time again, she found herself brushing up against him unnecessarily, listening to his sharp intakes of breath, feeling his solidness against her. When they had finished preparing their dinner, Anna pushed the pie into the oven.

"How long do you think we have?" John murmured, coming up behind her and slipping his arms around her waist.

She felt her breath beginning to come faster. "Oh, I think we should have at least half an hour," she said casually. "Why, what did you have in mind?"

"Come here, and I'll show you," he murmured, pulling her back against him, pressing himself against her backside. There was no denying his intentions, and Anna felt a frisson of heat.

"Come on," she said, tugging him towards the living room. "I'll show _you_ what _I've_ got in mind."

They quite lost the track of time after that, amid the shedding of clothes and the urgency of fulfilment. It wasn't until they smelled burning, much later in the evening, that they realised that they'd forgotten all about dinner. Anna pushed herself to her feet with an unladylike hiss, tumbling into the kitchen wearing nothing but her shift, and John followed her at a more leisurely pace, peering around the doorframe.

The pie was black, and their first dinner in their very own cottage had been ruined. For a moment, they both stared at each other. And then they started laughing loudly.

"Never mind," said Anna, dabbing at her eyes. "I suppose we'll just have to go without tonight. We'll have to make do with dessert."

"Dessert is my favourite," John growled, sweeping her up in his arms.

* * *

_handy-for-the-bus' prompt: Anna and John's conversation in the car, on their way back to Downton._

The car trundled slowly back down the streets, taking them back towards the countryside and Downton. Back _home_.

Anna clasped John's hand tightly between both of hers in the back of the car, linking their fingers together. He glanced across to see her staring at him, her eyes shimmering with utter adoration.

"What is it?" he tried to joke. "Do I have something on my face?"

"Well, now that you mention it," she teased, "you do have some rather dashing stubble."

He raised his spare hand self-consciously, rubbing his palm softly against his chin. It made a grating sound in the quiet. "Don't worry, I'll smarten up a bit when I get back to Downton. I just didn't have time this morning."

She shook her head. "No, I mean it. I like it." Casting a glance in Pratt's direction, she leaned in to him. "Very much so," she whispered.

He shivered at her tone of voice, resisting the urge to kiss her again as she sat back.

Squeezing his hand again, she carried on talking. "You have no idea how excited everyone is to see you. Even Mr. Carson hasn't been as bad tempered over the last few days."

John chucked. "And that's down to me?"

"I think so, yes. And Mrs. Hughes is overjoyed. She's given me some time off this afternoon, you know."

"Oh? Has she?"

Anna nodded, grinning excitedly. "I thought that perhaps we could go for a walk in the fresh air."

"That would be wonderful," he told her. "I haven't smelled fresh air in so long."

Anna's smile flickered for just a moment. "Let's not talk about it, John. It's in the past now. I want to forget – at least for a few days."

He nodded. He understood. Because he wanted to do the same, wanted to move forward with his life, with Anna by his side. And now, for the first time, there was nothing stopping them being together properly as man and wife.

"What do you want?" he asked her quietly.

She cocked a quizzical eyebrow at him. "What do you mean?"

He felt a grin of his own blossoming along his face, squeezing her hand tighter. "We have the whole world in front of us now, Anna. What do you want from it?"

This time, she didn't even bother to glance at Pratt as she leaned up to kiss him, clutching his hand so tightly between hers. When they parted with a soft smack of the lips, she nestled her head against his shoulder.

"All I want," she said, "is to be home with you."

* * *

_Anon's prompt: Anna tells John about her promotion to lady's maid._

"What news do you have of the house?" John asked her.

As usual, they were sitting opposite each other in the filthy visiting room, their hands stretched as close towards the other as they dared without actually touching. He had been oddly listless on this visit, her husband. Perhaps it was because he was afraid that she was running out of lines of enquiries. Since her visit to Mrs. Bartlett, she had been unable to find any more leads. That wasn't to say that she wasn't throwing herself into her investigations anymore. She was, whenever she had the spare time. But she supposed that it was easy to lose hope when you were surrounded each and every day by the same four walls and the same filthy routines. He was looking tired today. But he was still making the best effort he could, nodding mechanically and smiling when she told him not to give up, that next time she was sure that she'd have something else to offer him. The visit was drawing to a close, and he always asked this question right before she had to leave. She supposed that it gave him something else to think about in the long days that stretched endlessly ahead.

"Well, Lady Sybil will be due to have her baby any day now," she said, and she watched his smile turn half-nostalgic, half-bitter, an odd expression. "Mr. Branson is fussing round her like a mother hen. I think she finds it irritating, but she doesn't say anything."

"I can imagine," he told her softly, and she knew that he was thinking about what their life would be like if he wasn't stuck in prison. Would they have had a baby of their own by now? Would John have fussed over her every move, constantly warning her to take it easy, heedless of the roll of her eyes and her exasperated smile?

The subject was too painful to think about for long, so she quickly changed the topic to what she'd been meaning to say in the first place.

"And I've finally been made Lady Mary's official lady's maid."

John's eyes widened at the news. For the first time all visit, a genuine smile graced his face, crinkling his eyes slightly at the sides. It had been a long time since she had seen a smile like that – not since she'd told him about the garter that she'd purchased in France.

"That's wonderful news, Anna," he told her quietly. "Truly, truly wonderful."

She glowed inside at the warmth in his eyes, and wished that she could clasp his hand across the table. "I suppose it's been a long time coming."

He surprised her even more by chuckling, and it made her swell inside that the mood had finally lightened. "It most certainly has. You've been doing the work of a lady's maid _and_ a housemaid for the last God knows how many years. You run rings around everyone else in the house. It's about time that they recognised that you deserve a more senior position in the house. I take it that they call you Mrs. Bates now?"

She giggled a little too, shaking her head. "I'm afraid not. I'm still plain old Anna."

"You're neither plain nor old," he told her firmly. "You're perfect. But I must admit that I rather like the idea of you still being Anna."

"Oh?" she said. "And why's that?"

"Because it means that I'm the only one who can call you Mrs. Bates," he growled, and she felt her stomach contract pleasantly. He smiled wider at the pale blush that fused itself in her cheeks, then started a little when the guard shouted that their time was up. Anna shook her head and began to rise.

"I'll see you next week," she told him softly. "I love you."

"I love you too," he replied, standing too. "Take care getting home."

"I will," she said. "Don't worry."

She turned to leave then, and he called after her one last time.

"Give everyone my regards, Mrs. Bates!"

She smiled all the way back to Downton.

* * *

_Anon's prompt: how John came to mend Anna's bag in the servants' hall._

He'd noticed before on several occasions, that Anna loved her little black bag. It had been looking a little old and worn for a while now, but it had always been usable, strong and steady.

But now it was broken.

John wasn't quite sure how it had happened – whether Anna had caught in in the car door without realising, or whether they had manage to snap the cord between them with their enthusiastic kissing hidden out of sight before they'd made their way inside for John to be greeted by everyone and they just hadn't noticed – but the look on her face now was torn between heartbreak and frustration.

"It's not so bad," he said tentatively, taking her hand gently. "At least you can use it as an excuse to buy a new one."

She shook her head fiercely. "I don't _want_ a new one."

The notion was mystifying to John. He thought that she'd grab the opportunity to get a nice, new bag. "But you've had it for years."

"Exactly," she said. "_You_ bought this for me on my birthday when we'd just started walking out. It's been my favourite bag ever since."

He stared, touched at the look of soft sentimentality on her face, to see that the gift that he had picked for her with sweaty palms all that time ago still meant so much to her. Gently, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pressed a kiss against her temple.

"I can buy you a new one," he told her gently. "If I get my job back, I'll be able to put a little aside and get you a new one."

"I suppose," she sighed, but she looked forlorn. "It's just…no one has ever bought something like that for me before. It was special."

His heart contracted a little in his chest, and he kissed her again. While it made him sad to hear that Anna hadn't been lavished with the gifts that she so richly deserved, it buoyed his spirits to know that he had been able to give her that happiness. He had taken so much from her in the past years. It made him feel good to know that he could give her a little of that back, in some small way.

"Never mind," she sighed at last, not one to dwell. "I suppose I have other perfectly good bags that I can use in the meantime."

John caught her wrist gently when she raised it, holding the limp end of the bag.

"Wait," he said. "Is it just the handle that's snapped?"

She furrowed her brow a little. "I think so, yes. Why?"

He grinned at her broadly. "I think I can fix it for you."

Anna's eyes widened. "You can?"

He nodded again. "Yes. Nothing will bring me greater pleasure than making you happy again."

Her answering kiss was enough payment for him.

* * *

**A/N:** The whole lot in one chapter was like 11,000 words long, so I decided to split it. The rest will be appearing in a few days.


	2. II

**A/N:** Here are the rest. There's a footnote regarding one of them at the bottom.

* * *

II.

_Anon's prompt: Anna and John visit a dress shop._

"I think I need a new dress," Anna announced as she flopped down onto the bed beside her husband.

He shut his book, eyeing her quizzically. "You do? I think you already look perfect in whatever you're wearing."

"And that's why you're a man," she teased. "With the servants' ball coming up again, I'd like to look nice. Especially when it'll be our first servants' ball as husband and wife."

John shrugged, tossing his book onto his nightstand. "Well, if that's what you want."

"It is. I'll go into Ripon on my next half-day. I don't want anything extravagant, just something simple."

"All right then. I'll come with you."

"What? Won't you find dress shopping terribly dull?"

"I'll be spending time with you, won't I?" he shot back. "And that can never be dull. I'd rather not spend my half-day without you. Perhaps I can be of some assistance."

She knew that he'd be more of a hindrance than a help, but she couldn't help but smile. "Very well, then. You're a charmer, John Bates."

His grin was cheeky. "I'm only a charmer if it worked. Did it?"

"You'll have to come over here and see for yourself," she purred, and squealed when he rolled them over.

* * *

Their half-day arrived, and it found John and Anna in the dress shop in the centre of Ripon. Anna was browsing the shelves interestedly. John was trailing after her, not quite sure of what he was supposed to be looking at. The corsets on display made him wince. They were _tiny_.

Anna was picking out a pale lemon gown. John sidled up behind her. The shop owner was preoccupied with a stand at the other side of the room, so he risked ghosting his hand across the small of her back.

"I always find that you look gorgeous in blue," he growled in her ear, making the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

"Then I suppose blue is what I'll go for," she murmured, turning around so that she could gaze into his eyes heatedly.

He followed her further into the back, smiling softly as she picked out a gown of palest blue, holding it up in front of her.

"What do you think of this?" she asked.

"I think I need to see you in it first," he rumbled.

"There's a dressing room in the back of the shop," she told him. "Why don't we go and do it now?"

He followed her eagerly, glancing around to make sure that he hadn't been seen. Anna ushered him into the dressing room before her, pulling the curtain closed quickly behind her. She shot him a cheeky grin as he watched her with hot eyes.

"Give me a few moments to get ready," she told him. "And then you can give me your opinion."

"Yes, milady," he murmured, allowing his eyes to drift without shame over her flesh. Anna wasn't embarrassed. She undressed quickly, then pulled on the new dress, buttoning it up at the front.

"What do you think, then?" she asked, giving him a twirl in the confined space.

In a moment he was pressed up against her, his lips tasting the lobe of her ear.

"I like it," he growled against her skin. "I like it a lot."

"But…?"

His grin was wicked as he pulled away from her. "But I think I'd like it even more on the floor."

Heat pooled in her veins, and she crashed her mouth back against his, swallowing his groans.

And she had to agree with him. It _did_ look much better on the floor.

* * *

_Anon's prompt: Anna and John after the "revenge is sweet" line from S03E07._

"Revenge is sweet," he said, offering her a grin. She felt her own face expression mirror his as he began to tug her along, back the way that they had come.

"Which one is Mrs. Bowe's?" he murmured to her as they walked back down the line of cottages.

"The one on the end," Anna replied, coming to a stop in front of it. "What do you think?"

He squeezed her hand tighter. "I think it will be perfect whatever it looks like, because you'll be there inside it."

She rolled her eyes playfully at him. "It's nice to see that you haven't lost your charms, John Bates."

He chuckled. He wanted to slide his hand from hers and take her fully into his arms, but he didn't quite dare. Not out here, where everyone could see them. He settled instead for stroking his thumb across her knuckles.

"I can't wait, you know," she said suddenly. "For us to have our own home, I mean. I can't quite believe that it's actually going to come true. I know we have to wait for a few weeks while everything is sorted, but just knowing that we _can_ actually have it all…it makes me so happy."

"I know exactly what you mean," he said. "To be back here with you, after everything that we've been through…" He trailed off, and she let her spare hand close comfortingly around his forearm. She understood.

"When we move in," she said decisively, "I'm going to hang some nice, white curtains at the bedroom window."

"White?" he said, amused. "Why white?"

"Honestly, Mr. Bates, don't you know anything? White is perfect because it goes with anything."

"Well," he said, "I think the walls should be a pale lemon, because it's a happy colour. It matches your lovely personality."

She smirked at his reasoning, but didn't comment. "I want a settee rather than armchairs, so that I can curl up beside you."

"I want a blazing fire in the grate, so that we're never cold."

"I want a kitchen that's just cosy enough for us, so that when I cook, the air will smell of our food. Like _home_."

"I want a sturdy kitchen table," he said, and his voice was suddenly rough around the edges. Anna felt herself flush unexpectedly all over, and she watched his eyes darken when she looked up into his face.

"I want a soft bed with warm sheets," she said huskily, tilting her head back. The mood had turned considerably more intimate, and neither of them could help but groan a little at the images that filled their heads.

"It can't come soon enough for me," he told her gruffly. "This waiting is torture."

"Well," she said with a wicked grin, tugging on his hand. "I can't let you have the bed or the kitchen table just yet…" her eyes gleamed at the sight of him biting his lip, "but we don't have to wait any longer to be together, if you don't want."

His eyes roved heatedly over her face. "What do you have in mind?"

She giggled and pulled on his hand, leading him away. "You'll have to wait and see."

* * *

_Anon's prompt: During dinner, John announces unexpectedly that he wants a baby._

John had been quiet ever since they'd returned home that evening. He hadn't said much on the way back, which wasn't unusual in itself because John was a quiet man by nature, but it was the expression on his face that was perturbing Anna the most. He looked completely lost in his own thoughts, his eyes faraway. She had said his name five times now, and he still hadn't heard her. She sighed once more, serving dinner up on their plates. She would try to broach the subject with him during the meal. Ever since his release from prison, John had become much better at confiding in her, not shouldering his burdens alone. She hoped that he wasn't reverting now.

He mumbled his thanks as she slid his plate in front of him, and she eyed him across the table as he picked up his fork and pushed his food distractedly around his plate. She kept silent for a few minutes, simply watching him, trying to find the words to bring up his strange mood. She had just opened her mouth to tentatively ask him if there was anything bothering him, when he suddenly snapped his head up and stared at her intensely. The look stunned her into silence again, and before she could quite gather her thoughts, John began to speak.

"Anna," he said quietly, his eyes burning her skin, "I want a baby."

Whatever she had been bracing herself to hear, it had certainly not been that. She dropped her fork back onto her plate with a clatter, sending specks of gravy flying.

"W–What?" she stammered, eyes wide.

He stood quickly, moving around the table to drop to his knees in front of her, wincing as his bad knee came into contact with the floor. "I want a baby with you, Anna. It's all I've been able to think about all day."

Anna tried to process the momentous weight of his words. Although she and John had not actively been trying to prevent a pregnancy, they had decided many months ago when he'd first been released from prison that they would like to wait for a while before adding to their family, wanting to spend time as husband and wife before they became parents. Anna had felt nostalgic stirrings when Lady Mary had announced that she was pregnant, but she had still been content to wait until her husband was ready. She hadn't expected the day to come so soon.

"What's brought this on?" she asked, though she could feel the smile threatening to crack her face in two.

He took hold of her hands and linked their fingers together. "I was in the grounds today, and I saw Mr. Branson with Miss Sybil. And then I saw Mr. Matthew with Lady Mary, and…and I couldn't stop imagining _us_."

Oh, how her heart had begun to pound. She felt the tears well up in her eyes, and she slid from her chair so that she was kneeling down too, bringing his hands up to her lips. "I love you."

"Is that your way of saying that you want a baby too?" he asked her cautiously. "Only, I don't want to pressure you into something that you don't want, or you're not ready for –"

"Stop worrying," she told him through a tearful laugh, shaking her head. "Of course I want it too. It's just a little unexpected. I'd love to have a baby, but I wasn't sure if you wanted to. I'm overwhelmed, but in a very good way."

So we're agreed?" he said, and she felt her heart skip a beat at the sheer joy on his face. "We're going to try for a baby?"

She nodded, laughing, moving forward so that she could throw her arms around his neck. After a few moments, she clambered back to her feet, helping her husband up. He squeezed her hand and then released her, obviously intent on returning to his side of the table, but she reached her hand back out and caught his wrist.

"And just where do you think you're going?" she said huskily.

He raised his eyebrows. "To eat, of course. It's going cold."

She smirked, deliberately pushing her body up against his. "We can reheat it later. Don't you think it's imperative that we try as often as we can for this baby?"

His breath caught in his throat as the smell of her hair invaded his senses, and he couldn't stop himself from leaning back in.

"Perhaps you're right," he murmured.

She grinned lazily. "I _know_ I'm right. Our bed is calling to us, Mr. Bates."

"The sofa is closer," he said in return, and she squealed as he dragged her into the sitting room.

* * *

_Anon's prompt: Anna and John cook dinner together._

It had become their nightly ritual, to cook their dinner together. At first, Anna had insisted that she didn't need any help, that she was perfectly content with cooking for her husband alone, but she had soon come to realise that he still liked to follow her into the kitchen anyway. And, with him sitting at the table, scrutinising her every move, she'd found that he was quite a distraction. She'd never been able to make dinner perfect because, more often than not, she'd find herself being pulled out of the kitchen and back into the bedroom. Or at least the sitting room.

So that was why she'd relented and allowed him to help her cook, because at least if he was focusing his energies into cutting up the carrots, he wasn't distracting her and ruining yet _another_ perfectly good pie.

In fact, they made quite a good team in the kitchen. John had picked up the knack of knowing exactly what she wanted passing to her, and Anna took great delight in seeing John moving around the kitchen with her, looking completely at ease with his surroundings. She loved to see him with his collar and tie removed, his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows as he attacked the vegetables with enthusiasm. She enjoyed letting him taste the pastry that she was making, or smacking his arm good naturedly if he dipped his fingers into their dessert – a luxury that she stretched to whenever she thought they could afford the extra ingredients.

She enjoyed hearing him inhale the rich scent of their cooking dinner deeply, and loved it even more when he came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and telling her that he thought that it smelled delicious, that she was just as good as Mrs. Patmore. More than that, she loved it when he told her that the guests at their hotel would adore her cooking just as much, because it reminded her of their beautiful dreams for the future.

But most of all, she loved eating their spoils, knowing that it had been a team effort to make, that he had put just as much love and enthusiasm into preparing it as she had.

* * *

_Anon's prompt: John meets his baby girl for the first time._

John was shaking as he cautiously pushed open the door to their bedroom, peering into the semi-darkness. He had not slept all night, too full of nervous energy to even contemplate sitting down. It was almost dawn now, and Anna's labour had lasted fifteen long, painful hours. Just listening to her moans from downstairs had made the blood curdle in his veins. He had spent all that time pacing in their sitting room, gritting his teeth against the pain in his leg as it had protested against so much time being spent on it. Several times, he had lingered on the landing, desperate to know whatever he could, only to be shooed away by Mrs. Hughes as she'd hurried around collecting clean towels and warm bowls of water. All the while, John had been unable to stop himself from imagining the worst, his mind preying on him as it so often did, leaving him a nervous wreck as the cries above his head grew louder and louder.

But then it had been over, and Mrs. Hughes had delivered the news that both mother and baby were fine, with more than a little relief in her voice. He had asked if she'd graced him with a boy or a girl, but Mrs. Hughes had smiled knowingly and told him that Anna wanted to be the one to give him that answer.

His breath caught now as his eyes adjusted to the light that the one flickering candle gave off. The candlelight caught Anna's hair and gave her the illusion of having a halo. Her features were half in darkness, her face turned down to the bundle in her arms.

Christ, his child was _tiny_.

Entranced, he took a step into the room. Anna looked up at once, and her face split into a wide, tired grin.

"Hello," she said quietly.

"Hello, my darling," he replied, his voice catching in his throat. Cautiously, he settled himself onto the edge of the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Exhausted," she admitted. "But it was all worth it."

"I'll say," he murmured.

"Come here," she said softly. "I have someone who would like to meet you."

John nodded wordlessly, discarding his jacket and shoes, shuffling onto the bed to sit beside her properly. She shifted forward a little so that he could slide his arm around her shoulders and draw her closer to him, and she rested her head against his arm as he got himself comfortable. Then, when he was properly settled, she turned the tiny bundle in her arms until the baby was facing him properly.

John's intake of breath was sharp. The entire world shrank to the size of their bed.

"My God," he breathed.

A tiny button nose. Hands that were so small, he could barely believe that they were real, with miniscule nails that made his heart lurch. Dark fuzz that feathered the head. And two little blue eyes, half-lidded as they regarded him with interest.

"This is your daughter, John," Anna breathed.

A daughter. She had given him a daughter. John felt the tears well up in his eyes, and he didn't try to hide them from her.

"Hello," he said, reaching out a shaking hand towards his baby daughter's face. He stroked her cheek with his thumb, afraid that he might hurt her, and she squirmed a little in her mother's arms. John shrank back at once, but Anna only laughed.

"She knows her pa already," she said, rocking the babe gently.

"I don't think I'll ever be able to take my eyes off her," John said honestly. His voice was trembling. "Anna, she's beautiful."

"She is, isn't she?" replied Anna, turning her shining gaze on him. John didn't want to tear his stare away from his daughter, but he couldn't ignore the look of utter adoration on his wife's face. Cupping a hand against her cheek, he leaned in to kiss her deeply.

"Do you know how proud I am of you?" he whispered when they parted. "You've given me everything that I could have hoped for."

Anna's lip trembled. "I'm glad that you're pleased."

"Darling, I couldn't be more pleased," he said. "This is incredible. I love you so much. And –" he cast his eyes back down, "– I love this little one just as much."

"Would you like to hold her?" Anna asked.

John nodded. "Soon. Let me have one minute more just memorising the way you look holding her."

Anna smiled, understanding, and John let his hand rest underneath Anna's, supporting the weight of their baby together.

Their lives were finally complete.

* * *

_Anon's prompt: John meets his twins for the first time._

John might have been in this position before, but it didn't mean that it was any less wondrous and exhilarating the second time around.

Standing at the foot of his bed, he watched Anna shoot him a wide, exalted grin. A beautiful baby was nestled in the crook of each of her arms.

_Two_ more children. God, what had he done to be graced with such good fortune?

As if in a trance, John settled himself next to his wife, just as he had those two years previously, sliding his arm around her shoulder and drawing her closer. Pressing a fierce kiss against her mouth, he sat back to regard the faces of his children. The window was open, blowing in a cool breeze and attempting to mask the disturbing smell of birthing, and he chuckled lowly as one of his children screwed up its little face in protest.

"Look how beautiful they are," he breathed.

"Beautiful," Anna agreed, her voice wobbling. "Your daughter and your son."

Tears rushed inexplicably to his eyes. A son and a daughter. His life couldn't get any more perfect.

"Would you like to hold one?" she asked quietly, and he nodded eagerly, reaching to take the baby nearest his side.

"That's your son," she told him softly.

Good God, he was holding his very own son. John settled him gently into his arms, supporting his little head and gazing down in sheer wonder. The little lad yawned widely and wriggled, and John chuckled again. He let his gaze wander over to his daughter, to find her staring with wide eyes up at Anna.

"She's so much like you," he said, and Anna tore her eyes away to glance up at him.

"You think so?" she asked. "I'm not as sure."

"There's no mistaking it. She's got your eyes and your nose."

"She's got your chin, though."

"Poor thing."

Anna giggled, then allowed the baby to catch her finger with a flailing fist. "How was Martha, by the way?"

"Fine when I left her. Daisy was going to show her to your old room and sleep with her there for the night so that Martha could sleep in your old bed. She was very excited at the prospect."

Anna smiled wistfully. "I can't wait to see her tomorrow."

"She can't wait to see you, either. Or the twins. She's so eager."

Silence dominated for a few moments, and John allowed his eyes to drift back to his son. Although his features were similar to his sister's, there were slight differences in the shape of the nose and his mouth. His weight was light and comforting, and John brought him up to press a kiss against his little forehead.

It had been a complete and utter shock to be given the news that they were expecting twins. They hadn't been sure if they'd even manage to have another baby after Martha, never mind having two at the same time. Dr. Clarkson had been amused at their shock, claiming that anything was possible when it came to children.

Anna had glowed throughout the pregnancy, and John had adored seeing the way that she'd filled out. Despite it being the second pregnancy, he still hadn't been any less fussy, a fact which had exasperated and endeared Anna in equal measures.

And now everything was over, because their babies were here.

"Are you glad to have a son?" Anna interrupted his thoughts, and he turned back towards her.

"It's nice," he said with a smile. "But I would have been just as overjoyed if you'd graced me with two more daughters."

"I'm glad you've got a son," she confided lowly. "I wanted to give you that. And at least you're not quite as outnumbered by women anymore."

"I was a little worried that you'd have me teaching them how to sew," he agreed, raising an eyebrow suggestively. "You often say that I have a neat hand with his lordship's clothes."

Anna rolled her eyes. "Shut up and kiss me, John."

He didn't need telling twice. In their arms, their two babies slept.

The Bates family was complete.

* * *

_Anon's prompt: Anna and John after "you're stuck with me now, for good and proper."_

"You're stuck with me now. For good and proper."

They spent several moments simply smiling at each other, before Anna brought herself closer to him again.

"For good and proper," she sighed. "I like the sound of that."

"So do I," Mr. Bates agreed, rubbing his hands over her arms again. "Just you and me and no one else."

"At least not at first." The words escaped her mouth without her realising, and she froze, wondering how Mr. Bates would take them. They had not spoken of children since that night all that time ago, when they had dreamed of their future. What if his dreams had changed in their time apart?

But Mr. Bates simply squeezed her tight, and it melted her fears away.

"Yes, just not at first," he agreed. "After that, we'll allow a few little children to join us."

"A few?" She raised her eyebrow teasingly, and he blushed.

"Well, I expect we'll be happily married. So it shouldn't be surprising if we have a few," he murmured.

A few little babies, members of the Bates family. She herself proudly wearing his name. "In our little cottage?"

"Of course. Our own little family in our own little home."

There was such tenderness in his tone that she couldn't resist leaning up, sliding her arms around him properly, holding him tight, pushing herself as close to him as possible, leaning up on her tiptoes to even out the height difference. He seemed mesmerised by her as she moved closer, and she smiled at him. She was still smiling when she closed her mouth over his, and it felt delicious to feel him reciprocating the action, his hands sliding back to her waist. When she tentatively touched her tongue to his bottom lip, he opened his mouth immediately, and they spent several minutes simply enjoying each other. At last, however, the need for air became too much, and they reluctantly broke apart.

"Come on," he said. "Let's go inside now. You're shivering."

She _was_ shivering, but it wasn't because it was cold. It was the feel of his hands on her body that was making her quiver. She could feel their warmth even through the layers of her clothing. Not for the first time, she wondered what it would feel like to have his hands on her naked skin. That only made her shudder more violently.

"Come on," he said again. "The others will start to wonder where we are anyway. We don't want Mrs. Hughes coming out here and catching us like this."

"Oh, all right then," she sighed, pulling away but taking his hand in hers. "Though I do wish that we could stay out here all night."

He chuckled. "And then we'd be found frozen the next day."

"Like some sort of intimate statue?" she said cheekily, and he sucked in a breath. Noticing his sudden flustered look, she giggled, tugging him along with her. He followed her, twining their fingers together securely.

"I love you," he said suddenly. "You know that, don't you?"

She paused, shooting him a puzzled look. "Of course I know. I love you too."

He brought his spare hand to her face, stroking his calloused fingertips against her soft cheeks. "I mean it, you know. I'll try so hard to free myself of Vera. And the moment I am able, I will make you my wife. And then the rest of our lives can begin."

"I do like the sound of that," she admitted. "But I'll make do with just having you back by my side for now."

* * *

_Anon's prompt: Anna and John after a fight._

John sighed, shifting uncomfortably. The sofa was too small. His knee was already burning. He knew he wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight.

How such a trivial argument had blown up into something huge, he didn't know. Anna never got angry, and she never shouted. But tonight she had done both. He had been too cowardly to follow her to bed when she had stalked away that evening, and when he had finally had the courage to do so, he had found her already fast asleep, her back to the door. He'd considered climbing into bed beside her, but he had been wary of waking her and enticing her wrath further. Anna hated being woken. So he had removed himself quietly from the bedroom, choosing instead to settle himself on the tiny sofa.

He was beginning to regret that decision now, but he wouldn't go back. If there was one thing he was good at, it was suffering in silence. Anna would probably scold him over that.

At the thought of his wife, he heard the creak of floorboards above his head. His breath snagged in his throat.

Anna.

For a moment, he was frozen in fear, which was quite ridiculous considering that she was his wife, a great deal shorter than him, and most of the time was the gentlest woman in the world. But if she was still in a bad mood, he wasn't quite sure if he was ready for another argument.

He lay perfectly still in the darkness, listening as his wife moved down the staircase. Her tread was light and soft. He heard her footsteps pause out in the hallway, and then she opened the door quietly. He tried to make his breathing as even and deep as possible, hoping that she'd retract and head back up to bed, but she was clearly not going to give up that easily.

"John," she said loudly.

He bit his tongue to stop himself from answering. Really, she wasn't being very considerate. He was supposed to be asleep.

"John," she said, more loudly than ever. "I know you're not asleep. You're not snoring."

He sighed heavily, feeling himself flush as she moved into the room. She reached for the light switch, and he blinked stupidly in the sudden brightness. Anna was moving towards him, raising an eyebrow.

"What on earth are you doing down here?" she asked him. "It's freezing."

He shrugged. "I didn't want to disturb you earlier. I thought you might prefer it if I stayed down here."

"You silly beggar," she murmured, smacking his arm to make him sit up, squeezing herself onto the sofa beside him. "Of course I wouldn't prefer that."

"You were very angry earlier."

Her lips quirked. "So were you."

He hung his head in shame. He had thought that he would never lose his temper with Anna. He had _promised_ herself that he wouldn't. That part of him was ugly, and although he hadn't said anything nasty, as he had done in his old days, he had snapped at her. It hadn't seemed to faze Anna, but he had hated himself afterwards for it. She didn't deserve that, not after everything that she had put up with just to be with him.

She was snuggling her head against his arm now, and he started a little.

"Don't worry," she teased, noticing his expression. "I won't bite. At least not yet." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively, and he had to smile, lifting his arm properly for her to duck underneath. She rested her head against his chest, reaching for his hand.

"I'm sorry," she said after a few moments. "I shouldn't have shouted at you like I did today. It wasn't necessary."

"It's all right," he said automatically.

"No, it isn't. The two of us aren't supposed to be like that."

"Everyone argues sometimes, Anna. I shouted at you too."

"Is that why you didn't come up to bed?"

He shuffled uncomfortably.

"It is. I know you, John Bates. You were wallowing. But I'm not angry anymore. It was a silly disagreement that got blown out of proportions. Come back to bed with me now."

"You're sure that you don't want me to suffer for a while longer?"

She rolled her eyes. "John, it's half past two in the morning. It's absolutely freezing down here, and you don't have a blanket. I'm in no doubt that your knee is hurting. I think you've suffered enough."

He chuckled a little, then caught his breath when she raised his hand to her lips, kissing his knuckles gently. Her eyes found his, twinkling, and he couldn't resist leaning in towards her, his spare hand coming up to cup her neck. The kiss was slow and soft and deep. Anna began to lean backwards, pulling him down with her, and he continued to kiss her eagerly, until she pushed him back gently.

"There's one upside of arguing," she said, moving her lips to his neck.

His breath hitched. "Oh? And what's that?"

He could feel her lips curl against his skin. "The making up part."

Her hand was snaking down his body, covering his lower half. He couldn't help but moan lowly.

"I think that part might be quite enjoyable," he agreed breathlessly.

She guided his fingers lower over her, pulling down her undergarments, letting his fingers rove over her. Her head tilted back against the arm of the sofa. Her legs hugged him to her awkwardly.

There might not have been much room, but they certainly made the most of it.

And John was most certainly right:

The making up was very fun indeed.

* * *

_Anon's prompt: Anna and John's "alone at last" conversation, without Grigg's interruption._

"So, you see to the girls, and you're supposed to be head housemaid. You should put in for a raise."

"What do you mean, supposed to be?" she giggled, and he couldn't help but chuckle too. There was something about her eyes that intrigued him. They sparkled beautifully when she laughed, he couldn't help but notice. He watched her return to her work for a moment, her eyes focusing on whatever it was that she was doing, and he turned to his own, pretending to think about the best way of cleaning it. Soon, however, he couldn't stop himself from breaking the silence.

"I mean it," he said quietly. "You really do work hard. Much harder than the rest of us. I wonder how you manage it sometimes. You must be exhausted at the end of the day."

Anna set down her work, turning to face him. "I suppose I am, sometimes. It can be a challenge, I don't mind admitting it. Especially with the girls. They're all so demanding. Lady Sybil is usually quite content, but Lady Mary and Lady Edith can be quite a pair."

John nodded. He could well imagine that they were. Although he had never had any dealings with them, from the talk of the others, it was easy to gather that they were much more obnoxious than the youngest Crawley daughter. He shuddered to think about how difficult it must be to look after all three of them.

"I really admire your patience," he told her. "You're truly a credit to yourself."

Was it his imagination, or was she blushing a little? "Why, thank you, Mr. Bates. That's very kind of you to say. And I admire you just as much."

"Me?" he chuckled. "Why would you admire me?"

"For the way you conduct yourself, of course," she answered immediately. "The way that you don't retaliate with Thomas and Miss O'Brien. The way that you just get on with your work. The way that you put up with so much rubbish from everyone, and you never once complain about it."

"Well, not _everyone_ is bad," he said. "_You're_ certainly not."

There was no mistaking the blush this time, and he felt his heart flutter a little. "You flatter me, Mr. Bates. I just don't like to see people get treated badly when they deserve so much more."

"I'm not sure that I do," he said lightly, but cut that thought off quickly when he saw the flicker of curiosity over her features. "In any case, you're a very good friend."

"I'll always be your friend, Mr. Bates." Was there a little disappointment in her tone? John really couldn't say. Just then, however, the bell for the front door tinkled, and John and Anna looked away from each other.

"You'd better answer that," said Anna. "Mr. Carson wouldn't like a maid opening the front door."

John nodded, then rose. At the door to the servant's hall, he glanced back into the room.

"I've never had a friend like you," he told her sincerely, his eyes warm. "I'd be very happy indeed if we can remain friends like this."

He left her then, and she laid her work down on the table, her ears burning.

If only he knew.

* * *

**A/N:** I ended up choosing Martha as a name for a Bates baby, just because I'm hopeless at picking names. Also, Martha apparently means "lady", and I thought that that was a nice shout-out to the "You are a lady to me..." moment. ;) It apparently also means "mistress of the house", which amused me slightly, because I'm sure that as much as she loved her baby brother and sister, she'd be a bit of a bossy boots. :P


End file.
